


The Love of a Father

by sevarix



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Gen, Jeralt Reus Eisner Lives, Male My Unit | Byleth, jeralt doing his best at being a dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:53:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29948892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevarix/pseuds/sevarix
Summary: Jeralt struggles parenting his child, especially since his son neither laughs nor cries. At times he wonders if Byleth even likes him at all, and at other times he wonders if he’s just a failure of a parent. But through hardships and tragedies, Jeralt comes to realize just how much he cherishes his son.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	The Love of a Father

**Imperial Year 1159**

Soon after the child was born, Jeralt knew it wasn’t normal.

A few days passed before they even let him see the baby. What was supposed to have been one of the happiest days of is life had turned into a tragedy. They told him Sitri had died in childbirth, and that the baby was also in bad condition. And for days that’s all the information he had.

Sitri was dead, along with the happiness she had brought him.

When he was finally allowed to see his child, he was confused and saddened by what he saw. The baby hardly moved, didn’t cry, or show any type of emotion at all. Immediately he had suspected Rhea had done something, as she had been the one to deliver the child, but he had no proof.

His few questions about the strangeness of the baby were quickly dismissed by the archbishop, so instead he secretly took the baby to a doctor. That’s when he realized just how strange the baby truly was; there was a pulse, but no heartbeat. Seeing that there was a scar over the baby’s heart, Jeralt suspected Rhea even more. Just what had she done?

In the following days Jeralt felt conflicted. What was he to do with this strange child? He wasn’t even sure if he trusted Rhea enough anymore to be one of her knights. And what exactly had happened to Sitri?

The baby had remained completely emotionless, still never laughing or crying. He almost started to think it wasn’t human. What kind of baby didn’t even cry?

He considered many times giving it up for adoption, whether to the church or some village couple. Surely they’d be more apt at parenting such a child, and Jeralt relished the idea of abandoning the monastery altogether and starting life anew somewhere else.

But then the fire started at the monastery. He saw the child as he prepared to escape, and felt a pang of guilt. The baby still did not cry or even seem the least bit frightened at the circumstance, instead staring at him blankly.

And in those tiny eyes, he saw Sitri.

Perhaps it was his newfound parental instinct, but in that moment he knew what to do. He would flee the monastery, but he would take the child--Sitri’s child--with him.

As he began to safely bundle the baby, all he thought about was his late wife. The way she smiled, her gentle voice, her kindness…

He remembered then that in her last moments, she had named their son Byleth.

* * *

**Imperial Year 1168**

The next job was paying big, so Jeralt assumed it would be more dangerous.

After much thought, he decided to go alone to check out what was going on in the village, leaving the other mercenaries to watch over Byleth. Despite his... _odd_ nature, Jeralt was glad his son seemed to be able to handle a blade well. It was, after all, basically all Jeralt could teach him. Maybe they could get by as life-long mercenaries after all.

He still barely spoke, never cried, never laughed, or even showed much emotion, but still he was Sitri’s kid. That alone kept him going when he started to doubt everything.

It was just after sunrise when he entered the village. Almost immediately, a red-haired child about Byleth’s age ran up to him, smiling. It seemed almost odd, considering he had become so used to his son being the only child he interacted with on a regular basis. But seeing the hope in the redhead kid’s eyes made him realize just how desperate this village was for help.

The child stopped before him, staring at him in awe. “Are you the Blade Breaker?”

He laughed. Apparently his reputation had even impressed children. “That’s right kid, the one and only.”

Her eyes lit up with excitement. “So you’re gonna stop the bandits?”

He patted her on the head. “Definitely. I’ll make sure you stay safe.”

She continued to look at him with reverence. “Can… can you teach me how to fight, too?”

He chuckled again. “Sure, kid. You can be my apprentice while I stay here. How’s that sound?”

Her eyes widened, and for a moment she appeared speechless. Then she stood tall, looking at him with determination. “I… I will be the _best_ apprentice you’ve ever seen!”

“Good to hear it, kid! So, what’s my new apprentice’s name?”

“My name is Leonie!”

Jeralt decided he liked Leonie. He hoped she never had to fight in order to survive, but he was glad to teach the locals how to protect themselves from bandits. And the way she seemed so excited, so enthusiastic…

He felt a pang of guilt at the thought, urging his mind to not make the comparison. But it was such a stark one, he couldn’t help it. Leonie was a normal child. A happy child.

Unlike his own.

He knew Byleth couldn’t help it. He was born that way under those suspicious circumstances. But to see even a spec of emotion on his face, to see him be _normal…_

It was a terrible thought and he knew it, but at times like this he felt robbed of the joys parenthood were supposed to bring. He tried his best to push it aside, instead focusing on the job ahead of him.

“Well Leonie, I’ll be happy to teach you.”

* * *

**Imperial Year 1171**

Jeralt awoke to a prod. When he opened his eyes, he saw his tent illuminated by a lantern and Byleth’s blank stare looking down at him.

He sat up from the bedroll, urging himself awake. “Hey kid. You all right?”

Byleth shook his head.

“Did something happen?”

“Nightmares,” he whispered.

This wasn’t the first time, but it seemed recently they were growing more frequent. Jeralt started to wonder if teaching his kid to fight was the best idea. “Do you… want to talk about it?”

He shook his head. The same answer as always.

Jeralt offered him a reassuring smile, pulling him into an embrace. “It’ll be all right, kid. It’s just a dream.”

Just like every other time, Byleth opted to sleep beside him instead of in his own bedroll. Jeralt didn’t mind, and felt relieved that Byleth found comfort in it. There were times when he wasn’t even sure if Byleth even _liked_ him. 

The lantern went out, and he was drifting back to sleep when he heard another whisper.

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?”

“Is… there a way to help people without fighting?”

A pang of guilt hit him again. Maybe he shouldn’t have a kid fight in so many battles. Already Byleth had been given his own nickname: The Ashen Demon. He had earned it for his constant blank expression as he fought, appearing completely unaffected by the violence. But Jeralt knew the truth. It affected him, but he just couldn’t express it. “Yeah,” he answered. “Lots of ways.”

A long moment of silence followed. “Can we try that sometime?”

Jeralt felt like he had been stabbed in the heart. “Of course,” he replied. “We’ll try that sometime.”

Byleth’s final reply was barely audible. “Good.”

With that, Jeralt made it a point to stay awake until Byleth fell asleep, hoping the nightmares would not plague him anymore.

* * *

**Imperial Year 1171, a few weeks later**

Over the next few weeks, Jeralt wracked his mind for how he and Byleth could find a job that didn’t involve fighting. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that ideally a child would have to work at all, and instead focus on learning life skills.

That’s when he decided to confront the same difficult decision he had all those years ago. Perhaps Byleth would be better off adopted by some village couple who would ensure he lived a happy life free of violence.

There was one family he had in mind, too. They were an older couple who often hosted them, and treated Byleth with kindness despite his quirks. They also had a dog that Byleth seemed to like quite a bit, so to Jeralt it seemed like the perfect match.

They stopped by the village soon after, and although the family wasn’t hosting them this time, Jeralt planned to stop by and tell them his plan.

But first… he wanted to see what his son thought.

Jeralt sat next to Byleth beside the tree on the edge of the village. He sat in silence for a moment, watching Byleth study a flower in the grass with his usual blank expression.

“Hey, kid. I… wanted to talk to you about something.”

Byleth turned his blank stare to him and nodded.

“Well, I know fighting isn’t always fun. I thought maybe you’d want to stay here for a while. With that nice couple who lives here.”

Byleth blinked at him. “The one with the dog?”

He smiled. “Yeah, the one with the dog. I was thinking maybe it would be good if you stayed with them longer this time. While I continue work elsewhere.”

Byleth tilted his head. “How long?”

“A _long_ time. Years.”

Byleth’s eyes widened, and for the first time since he was born, Jeralt saw an immense sadness pass over his face. He could only stare at his son, amazed at what he was seeing.

“So… you would be away for years?” Byleth asked.

“I could come visit, of course. But this way you could live away from the fighting.”

Byleth shook his head, his blank expression returning. “I don’t want to. I don’t want you to go.”

Jeralt was taken aback by his words. “Are you sure? I know living as a mercenary can be hard--”

“I don’t want you to go away. I want to stay with you, dad.”

Jeralt smiled, feeling tears well in his eyes. “Well, if that’s how you feel, I won’t go anywhere.” He reached out and tousled Byleth’s hair. “We’ll stick together. Always.”

Byleth smiled, which only shocked him more. It was a beautiful smile, not at all forced. And it reminded him of Sitri. “Good.” Then it faded, and he glanced back toward the village. “Can we still visit the dog?”

Jeralt laughed, feeling relieved. Perhaps he had worried too much about how much Byleth actually cared about him. “Sure thing, kid.”

* * *

**Imperial Year 1180**

Jeralt had been terrified when Rhea had him take his position again at the monastery, but he was even more disturbed when she made Byleth a professor.

It was clear she knew who he really was, despite Jeralt’s rather poor attempt to hide the truth. Rhea was too wise, and Byleth looked too much like Sitri. In retrospect, he realized he probably shouldn’t have kept the name Sitri had given him, but his sentimental side kept him from doing that.

But much to his surprise, Byleth seemed to really take to the role. Despite him teaching mostly noble brats, he seemed… _happy._ Jeralt couldn’t remember the last time he had seen him smile so much. And to see him interacting with people all around the monastery brought him joy. If only Sitri could have seen him.

He began to wonder if perhaps they shouldn’t have left the monastery to begin with. But then again, it had only been a few months. He still tried his best to stay alert to what Rhea was up to.

Jeralt wasn’t the type to sit and have a chat, but after a couple months he decided to invite Byleth to his office to see how he was really doing.

“So,” Jeralt began as Byleth sat quietly before him. “You liking this professor thing?”

He nodded. “I think I’m getting the hang of it.”

Jeralt smiled. “Good. I can tell you’ve been happy. But, be careful. Make sure no one takes advantage of your position with the church.”

He remained quiet for a moment, staring blankly downward. “I’m worried people will take advantage of my lack of knowledge about Fodlan.”

The guilt hit him again, though he knew Byleth was not blaming him directly. “Yeah… I’m sorry I didn’t teach you more about that sort of thing.”

He shook his head. “I think I’d have to have been raised a noble to understand it all. And then there’s the crest thing. Did you know I had a crest?”

Jeralt rubbed his chin. He never had really thought much of it, but he guessed it was likely that he inherited one from either him or Sitri. “I… never thought it was important, I guess.”

He shrugged. “I don’t really get why it’s so important.” 

“Have you… made any friends? Ones that don’t care so much about crests?” He knew it was a bit of an awkward question, but considering he never knew his son to have any close friends, he wanted to know.

He thought for a moment then nodded. “I don’t always have a lot of extra time, but I guess there are a few people outside of my students who I would consider a friend. Alois is always really nice to me, and helps me with things. Manuela is always really friendly too, and has helped me learn more healing magic. And then there’s someone else I met who helps people by--” He shook his head. “Never mind, I won’t bore you with all this.”

Jeralt laughed, pleased he had made friends with more people than just Alois. That hardly counted, since Alois basically became friends with everyone he met. “No, it’s fine! I’m really glad you’ve made some friends. Who’s this person who helps others?”

Byleth glanced away. “Well, he’s not really part of the monastery. But he helps people who are desperate and need it. Sometimes he needs extra help, so I’ve volunteered a few times. It reminds me of our mercenary days.”

Jeralt realized this person was probably not someone Rhea needed to know about, which was probably why Byleth was reluctant to go into detail. “Oh, well that’s nice of you.”

He nodded. “He’s helped me out a lot in return. With the missions Rhea sends us on. Sometimes it’s… dangerous for the students, but he’s helped me protect them.” His voice softened. “I… really admire him.”

A true friend, Jeralt realized. Not just a friendly face with a boisterous laugh or a kindly but lonely woman who flirted with every man she saw. “I’m glad to hear it.”

Byleth smiled, and again he wondered if perhaps they shouldn’t have left the monastery after all. His child who had once been so dependant on him was now thriving on his own, even better than most adults he had met. Twenty-one years ago he would have never guessed that tiny baby who never laughed, cried, or smiled would grown into an adult he was so proud of. An adult Sitri would have been proud of.

If only she could have seen him now.

* * *

**Imperial Year 1180, a few months later**

Jeralt had never felt so much pain before in his life.

He had been hurt many times through his life, but the blade that pierced his back felt unlike anything he had felt before. Pure, raw pain.

Next thing he knew, he had collapsed to the ground, feeling on the edge of consciousness. Or maybe death. Maybe this was finally his time to go.

Before he blacked out, he felt someone roll him over onto his back. When he opened his eyes, he saw Byleth staring back at him, eyes full of despair.

He hadn’t noticed the tears falling until one fell onto his face.

Despite his pain, he smiled, feeling a strange relief. “To think that the first time I saw you cry... your tears would be for me. It's sad, and yet...I'm happy for it. Thank you...kid.”

He began to fade from consciousness completely at that point, but still he could hear Byleth’s sobs.

It seemed his son cared for him all along, just as much as Jeralt had cared for him.

* * *

**Imperial Year 1180, one month later**

Jeralt awoke slowly, feeling a stab of pain in his back.

For a moment he was confused about where he was. Thinking back, all he could remember was leaving on a mission to an abandoned cathedral, and then--

Byleth crying. For _him_.

Had he died? He liked to think not, since he at least hoped the goddess was kind enough to take pain away when one died. No, he was certainly alive. But how long had it been?

“Oh, Captain! You’re awake!”

He opened his eyes, finding Manuela looking down at him. With what strength he had, he managed to sit up in the infirmary bed.

“You really worried us there,” Manuela said, moving to fetch a tray of food for him. “You’ve been in and out of consciousness for over a month.”

He tried to speak, but his throat was so dry that no words were produced.

Manuela put the tray before him, and he gratefully ate and drank his fill.

“I must admit, I’m… shocked that you managed to survive that.”

He shrugged. “Not the first time I’ve been stabbed.”

She shook her head. “This was different. The wound that blade made… it was unlike anything I’ve seen before.” Then she smiled. “But if anyone could survive it, I suppose it would be you.”

Jeralt saw a shadow pass over the doorway, and when he turned his head, he was utterly confused at what he saw.

Byleth rushed toward him, his once-dark hair now a bright shade of green. “You’re awake!”

He was happy to see his son again, despite the confusion over the new look. “Hey, kid. What… happened to your hair?”

Byleth hesitated a moment, as if pondering about it himself. “The goddess gifted me some kind of power.”

Jeralt blinked at him.

“We… went after the group responsible for what happened to you, and the students who turned into beasts. Monica was actually someone else, like how Tomas was actually Solon.” He sighed. “It’s fine now, though. She’s dead. She can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

“You… you got _revenge_? And the goddess helped you?”

He nodded. “Of course.”

Manuela chuckled. “He was quite determined about it, too. Rhea almost had to hold him back.”

Byleth’s face flushed with embarrassment. “I couldn’t let them get away with that. You… almost died.”

Jeralt smiled, then reached out and ruffled his newly-green hair. The same child he almost abandoned, the same child he assumed hated him for years had just risked his life to have revenge on someone who hurt him. He found it hard to believe he ever even thought those things in the past. “Thanks, kid.”

* * *

**Imperial Year 1181**

The monastery was destroyed. Rhea had been captured. The empire started a war. But to Jeralt, those things didn’t matter.

All that mattered to him was finding his son.

He had just barely recovered from the injury that almost killed him and the church was already begging him to help them fight back against the empire. The same church that had put his son in danger in the first place.

Jeralt didn’t care about Rhea. He just wanted to find Byleth.

The thing was, he had no idea where to start looking. He hadn’t even been at the battle when it happened, but he had heard Byleth had simply disappeared and no one knew if he had died or not. No matter who he asked, he couldn’t seem to get any solid information. Everyone was worried about the war and Rhea instead.

It had been weeks now, and Jeralt was growing restless. He had searched the ruins of the monastery once again, but still discovered nothing about Byleth’s whereabouts.

Feeling defeated, he found a patch of grass to sit on to try and steady his thoughts. He refused to believe that his son was dead. He simply could not accept it. If he did, he would only be plagued with more guilt and more ‘what ifs’. What if he had been well enough to assist in the battle? Could he have saved his son?

He sighed, trying his best to stay hopeful.

“Oh, there you are.”

He looked up, finding a young man approach him, his expression serious. Jeralt had seen him before, and new he had some kind of ties to the monastery, but it had never been clear to him how. “Need something?”

He sat beside Jeralt in the grass, crossing his arms. “I’ve been looking for Byleth. Wanted to ask you a few things.”

“You’ve… been looking for him?” Someone actually cared more about Byleth than Rhea after all, it seemed. “Wait, you’re that friend if his, aren’t you? Yuri, right”

He nodded, smiling faintly. “Yep, that’s me.” Then his expression grew serious again. “I refuse to believe he died. I saw him fall, and even after searching the area I saw no trace of him.” He sighed. “If he is out there, do you know where he would have gone?”

Jeralt shook his head, frowning. “I’ve looked as well. If he was able to walk, I’d say he’d come back here. I won’t give up though. Even if he did die, I want to know for certain.” He turned to Yuri. “Thank you. For… caring about him. It seems he’s found a good friend in you.”

Yuri smiled. “He’s been a good friend to me, too.”

“I know he can be… odd, at times. Hopefully he hasn’t given you any trouble.”

“Not at all. In fact…” He he glanced downward in thought. “He’s one of the kindest, most sincere people I’ve ever met.” Then he looked up at Jeralt, his eyes full of determination. “That’s why I’ll do whatever I can to find out what happened to him.”

Jeralt stared at him in shock. To hear someone say such a thing about Byleth… it was heartwarming. To hear someone call his son _kind_ made him feel like he perhaps did not fail as a parent after all.

Jeralt only wished he had realized it sooner. Before he had potentially lost his son forever.

Perhaps they should not have come back to the monastery after all.

* * *

**Imperial Year 1185**

Over five years had passed since the war began and ended, and during that time Jeralt became more and more of a recluse. After discovering Abyss, he retreated far into its depths, far away from Yuri’s territory, trying to forget the life he once lived. Occasionally he heard snippets about whatever post-war political happenings were going on, but for the most part, he tried to ignore it.

He started using a new name, only used his blade when absolutely necessary, and focused his efforts on helping people in other ways. But mostly, he just stayed isolated from others.

And every once in a while, his past would come back to haunt him. He would remember how he lost everything he had once loved. All the things he wished he could have said to Sitri before she passed. All the things he should have been wary of before the war started. But above everything else, he had one major regret, one major point of guilt he didn’t think he’d ever get over.

Not once since he had been born had Jeralt told his son that he loved him.

He did love him, of course. He had loved his son more than he could put into words. He was his child, Sitri’s child. And much to his dismay, he never once had been able to put that into words. And now he was gone.

It tormented him. For the first two years after the war started, he had searched and searched, even if it was just for a body. Even Yuri helped, using what resources he had, but they hadn’t found anything. Not single trace of Byleth could be found.

And now, all he had left of his little family, all he had left of the people he had cared for so much, was a single ring. Sitri’s ring. The one that once had been a symbol of their love for each other.

He cherished it. It was the only belonging he had that mattered to him.

He had been sitting in the hovel he called a home, looking at the ring once more when the thought came to him. Perhaps… perhaps it was finally time to go back to the surface, just for a moment, and visit her grave. He hadn’t seen it in years, but maybe it would help the guilt subside for now. He got to his feet and moved toward the surface.

\--------------

Jeralt was surprised when he entered the monastery grounds. No longer was it in ruins; instead it appeared as though it had never been damaged at all. Even guards were scattered about, though instead of wearing the emblem of Seiros, they wore an emblem Jeralt did not recognize. Maybe this new king he heard rumors about wasn’t so bad after all if he kicked the church out.

Unfortunately, due to the increased guard, he barely made it a few steps toward the graveyard before getting stopped.

“Civilians aren’t allowed in this area,” the guard said sternly. “How did you get here?”

He shrugged, wondering if this whole journey was a mistake after all. “Came from the underground.”

He scoffed. “And here I thought we blocked that area off.”

Jeralt sighed. “I’ll leave, then.”

“Hold on a minute, we’ll need to question you.”

At this point Jeralt regretted even stepping foot out of his hovel. He looked back at the guard, realizing he could easily take him out if needed, but he decided resisting would only make things worse. “Fine, whatever.”

Another guard joined them, and together led him, ironically, to what used to be his old office. He almost laughed at the situation.

“That bastard isn’t even here,” the first guard said, glancing into the empty office.

“Probably helping more of his rats escape,” the second guard commented.

“Looking for me?” a new voice asked, clearly amused by the situation.

Jeralt felt his eyes widen when he saw who approached. Yuri, still alive after all these years, apparently was the new owner of his old office.

“One of your rats escaped,” the first guard said.

Yuri sighed. “Sure, I’ll talk to him. You can leave.”

The guards hesitated, then did as he said. It appeared although they had little respect for Yuri, they were still forced to take orders from him.

It was once they were out of sight that Yuri finally turned to him, freezing in shock. “Jeralt?!”

“Hey. Been a while.”

Yuri blinked at him. “I… where…” He shook his head, waving him to enter the office. “We need to chat.”

Once the door was closed, Yuri continued. “Where the _hell_ have you been?! Do you know how long I’ve searched for you?”

He shrugged. “Didn’t see a reason to come back.”

His expression softened. “You… really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what’s going on here? No, I’m pretty confused. Those guards didn’t seem to like you, but you’re apparently above them in rank now.”

He laughed. “Yeah, they’re not too fond of me. Honestly, it’s been a mess since the war ended and the new king--” He paused, looking at Jeralt seriously. “Wait, you don’t know who the king is, do you?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Don’t really care.”

Yuri cursed under his breath, and moved back toward the door. “Come on. Time to meet with the king.”

Jeralt sighed, and reluctantly followed him. He _really_ shouldn’t have left the comfort of his hovel. He should have known life on the surface would have changed drastically. Even Yuri seemed to regret leaving the underground. “You don’t really seem the type to hang out with royalty,” Jeralt commented. “How’d you land this position?”

He smiled. “The king and I happen to be quite close. It was his idea. It’ll make sense in a minute.”

Before Jeralt could even attempt to make sense of it, they arrived at another office, likely the king’s. Yuri rushed inside, leaving Jeralt in the hallway.

“Hey, I got a surprise for you.”

The voice from within the room sighed. “Sorry, Yuri, I’m afraid it will have to wait. I have to deal with the guard captain situation.”

Jeralt froze at the sound of the voice. Was he dreaming…? Would he awaken at any moment, finding himself back in the darkness of the underground?

Without another thought, he moved into the room. And there at a desk, looking very exhausted, was none other than his son, dressed in king’s regalia. “Byleth…?”

Byleth’s eyes widened immediately, mouth hanging open.

Yuri smiled. “I’ll let you two catch up.” With that, the door closed, and he was alone with the son he thought he had lost forever.

Tears streamed down his face as Byleth rushed to embrace him.

“I thought you were dead.”

“I thought you were dead, too.”

Jeralt pulled him closer. “I’m so sorry. I… I should have come out of hiding sooner. I had no idea you--”

“It’s all right.” It was then Jeralt realized Byleth was crying, too. The second time he had ever witnessed it, and both times the tears had been for _him_. “I’m just glad you’re back. 

Byleth released him, looking up at him with a smile, tears still glistening his cheeks. “I’m sorry you thought I was dead.”

Jeralt smiled in return, gently wiping the tears from Byleth’s cheeks. “It’s all right. I’m proud of you, kid. Heard you’re a king now.”

His smile faded. “It’s stressful. The guard has been--” He stopped, then looked at him with relief. “Dad, you’re my new guard captain.”

“I… what?!”

“It’s a mess right now. Most of them don’t even really respect me that much. And they don’t like Yuri.”

Jeralt smiled. “Sure thing, kid. I’d be happy to.” He reached out and tousled his hair. “You can focus on helping people peacefully. I’ll take care of the fighting.”

He smiled. “Good.”

It was then Jeralt realized his original reason for coming out of hiding. He reached into his pocket and took out the ring. “I… know you’re busy, but… there’s something I want to give you.” He held out the ring. “You remember this ring, right?”

He nodded. “It was my mother’s, right?”

“Yeah. It’s… the only thing I have to remember her by. Well, _was_ the only thing.”

Byleth only stared at him in return.

“I want you to have the ring. Give it to someone you care about as much as I cared about her. It… sounds like you might already have someone like that.”

He carefully took the ring. “Are you sure?”

He smiled. “Of course. I realize now that _you_ are the best thing I have to remember her by. You might not have ever known her, but she would have been really proud of you, too.”

Byleth smiled, looking down at the ring. “Thanks. I… um… this means a lot to me.”

Jeralt couldn’t help himself. He embraced his son once more, still grateful to be reunited. “I love you a lot, kid. I hope you know that.”

“I love you too, dad.”

Jeralt had no idea what the afterlife was like, but in that moment, he hoped Sitri’s spirit was looking down on them.


End file.
